pairing: dom!stepmom!sophia x sub!fem!reader
summary: sophia married for wealth, but what she didn't know was that the greatest treasure that had come with her marriage came in the form of a human, you/an older evil perverted femme preys on you
tags: (legal) age gap, corruption kink, (slight) dacryphilia, fingering, mommy kink, manipulation, noncon -> dubcon, obsession, possessive behaviour, somnophilia, stepcest, slight mentions of virginity being taken, men and minors dni
wordcount: 2.4k
a/n: if you see the tags getting longer ignore it... this fool keeps rereading this and adding new tags😭🫶
sophia had never lied to herself about why she married your father. money was simple, and so was stability. a beautiful life was simple. affection, on the other hand, was unpredictable, and far too capable of rearranging things she preferred to keep under control.
so when she moved into the house, she arrived with a plan already formed. she would be kind but also be distant. she would treat you, his daughter, like an obligation rather than anything that required emotional investment. you were old enough not to need her, and that suited her perfectly.
but that was before she had actually seen you.
you were not what she had expected, at all. not childish, or hostile, or dramatic, but quiet and observant in a way that made her feel, uncomfortably, as though she were the one being watched.
you stood in the doorway while your father spoke, hands nervously smoothing down that beautiful white sun dress, your posture rigid, and when your eyes met hers there was no challenge in them, only a kind of unguarded attentiveness that unsettled her more than suspicion ever could.
she felt it then, that small and treacherous shift in her chest, and an interest in you began to bloom.
“you don’t have to be so formal with me,” she said that first evening, her tone light, a practiced smile gracing her features.
“i know,” you quipped, and smiled back, and something about that smile stayed with her far longer than it should have.
at first, she was merely being observant. she noticed the way you leaned against doorframes when you were tired, the way your voice softened when you spoke about things you cared about, the way you listened as if people rarely did. the way you took strands of yoyr hair, plaiting them anxiously when stressed.
these were harmless observations, she insisted, the sort anyone might make when learning the components of a new household.
but observation became something else, something she didn't plan on feeling.
she began to notice when you would be home, when you would pass through certain rooms, when the house felt inexplicably quieter without you in it, when you stomped up the stairs everytime your father would argue with you over small stuff, when you'd blink twice when met with a confusing task.
she found herself timing her evenings to coincide with yours, and when she caught herself doing this, she dismissed it as coincidence with more haste than was strictly necessary.
your father, pleased by the mutual cordial behaviour, was often absent, and when he was present he seemed relieved to see the two of you speaking easily, even laughing occasionally.
“i’m glad you’re getting along,” he said once, with the satisfied tone of a man who believes his life is arranging itself correctly.
“of course,” sophia replied, and meant it, although not in the way he assumed.
months later, when he left for his extended business trip, the house changed. the first few nights passed without incident. then sophia began to feel the silence.
she knocked on your door one evening, a glass of wine in her hand, emboldened by the fragrant liquor.
“are you busy?” she asked, a light flush creeping up her neck. the door opened and her heart missed a beat, her eyes sweeping over your body, over the lacy nightgown that left nothing to her imagination.
“not really,” you said, hastily stepping aside to let her see into your room. “why?”
“no reason,” she said, and smiled. “keep me company for a bit. this house has a habit of feeling too large.”
you hesitated, only briefly, before following her, and from then on, it became routine.
you sat together in the evenings, sometimes talking, sometimes not, sometimes close enough that you could feel the warmth of her through the thin space between your bodies.
she began touching you in ways that were easy to dismiss and difficult to refuse, a hand at your wrist when she wanted your attention, fingers resting briefly at your shoulder, her palm at your lower back when she guided you through a doorway.
you noticed but didn't comment, for fear of the first real experience of care in your life being taken from you.
“you’re very easy to be around,” she said one night, watching you over the rim of her glass.
“is that a good thing?” you asked, a grin appearing on your face.
she smiled, slow and unreadable. “it can be.”
sometimes she would look at you for longer than conversation required, her gaze thoughtful, almost proprietary.
“what?” you asked once, shifting under it in embarrassment.
“i’m just thinking,” she replied calmly. “you have no idea how much presence you have.” the way she said it made heat rise uncomfortably along your neck.
the night she asked you to sleep in her room, the rain was loud enough to justify anything.
“i can’t sleep,” she said, standing in your doorway in a silk robe that was far too deliberate to be incidental. “i’m feeling rather lonely tonight.”
“do you want me to stay and talk?” you asked, half jokingly.
she regarded you for a moment, then said softly, “i was hoping you would.”
you told yourself it was harmless… you told yourself many things.
you lay on opposite sides of the bed at first, the space between you careful and deliberate, until she turned slightly and her fingers brushed yours, and did not move away.
“you’re warm,” she said quietly.
after that, it became normal. as normal as brushing your teeth, as normal as wind through the trees.
she began changing in front of you without much concern, feeling successful when she could feel your hesitant gaze raking over her sun-kissed skin, began sitting too close, began speaking to you in a voice reserved for lovers rather than family.
“you understand me better than anyone else in this house, you know that, darling?” she said once.
“better than my father?” you asked quietly, a shiver running down your spine from the pet name.
her smile was slow, sharp teeth peeking through her red lips. “especially better than him.”
she never crossed a line that could be easily named, but she stood close enough that your thoughts became unreliable, and she looked at you in a way that made it difficult to remember who was supposed to have control. slowly, without realizing it, you began to belong more to her than to yourself.
by the time sophia realized she was in love with you, the word itself had already become meaningless in her mind.
love, to her, no longer meant patience or restraint or choice. it meant how close you were to one another. it meant free access. it meant the quiet and terrifying certainty that something belonged to her simply because she wanted it badly enough.
it meant that she wanted to be with you so bad, if she could eat you so that you truly became one, she would've a long time ago.
your father’s absences had started to feel less like interruptions and more like permissions.
she watched you constantly now, not with the casual attention she once allowed herself, but with a focus that felt deliberate and consuming, as if she were memorizing you in preparation for something you had not agreed to be part of.
you noticed the change, though you could not have named it. she stood closer. she touched more. she looked at you longer. she loved more.
and she began to ask for things.
“say it,” she murmured one evening, her hand resting lightly at your waist as you stood in the kitchen.
“say what?” you asked, already uneasy.
she smiled, slow and indulgent. “mommy.”
you laughed at first, because it sounded ridiculous, because it sounded like a joke, because you did not yet understand that she was not joking at all.
“just for fun,” she said. “humor me.”
you did it once, awkward and embarrassed, and the look on her face was not amusement but something far more intent.
after that, she began to attach the word to rewards.
“be good and ask properly,” she would say, when you wanted something simple, a favor, the keys to her car, her help with something trivial.
and when you hesitated, she would tilt her head, fake pouting and say, “don’t you want to make mommy happy?”
she started pulling you into her space more openly, guiding you down into her lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her arms around you, her chin near your shoulder, holding you there longer than comfort required.
“you’re so tense,” she would murmur. “you should let me take care of you.”
you told yourself this was strange but harmless… you told yourself many things.
when your father left again, the house did not feel empty. it felt sealed, and that was when sophia stopped pretending.
she began coming into your room without knocking, sitting on your bed as if it were hers, touching your hair, your face, your hands, with a tenderness that felt loaded with innuendo rather than innocent.
“you don’t need anyone else,” she said one night, her thumb brushing your cheek. “i take care of you. i always have. just you and mommy, hmm?”
something in her voice made your stomach tighten. you opened your mouth to whisper. “just me and mommy.” you watched as the sharp teeth began to make an appearance once again, her smile widening with… you weren’t sure.
and so you started trying to create distance, but she noticed. she did not like it.
“you’re pulling away,” she said coldly, an accusation.
“i’m just tired,” you lied. she exhaled, and smiled at you in a way that did not reach her eyes. “then you should rest.”
that night, you went to sleep with the door closed, but it didn’t stay that way.
you don’t remember waking up, but you remember the sensation of something being wrong before you remembered anything else.
the moonlight casts a strange shadow across the bedroom as your eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep.
at first, the warm wetness between your thighs felt like a dream, until a sharp gasp escaped your lips as sophia's fingers pushed deeper inside you, her breathing coming in soft, deliberate pants against your neck, her other hand gripping your hip to steady herself.
the silk sheets rustled beneath you as she moved closer, her teeth grazing your ear as she whispered.
“i've been waiting so long to taste you properly, y/n.”
your body arches instinctively against her touch, your hands clutching the pillow you were laying on for support as waves of conflicting pleasure and terror crash over you.
“sophia…? get off m-” her mouth met yours before you could finish speaking, cutting off your protests with a soft warning.
her weight pressed you into the mattress, her body hot against yours, and her knee slid between your thighs. you could taste the salt of your skin on her tongue, the faint muskiness of the white wine from her morning drinking.
sophia’s fingers inside you thrusted in slow but hard strokes, not giving you time to think. your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more friction even as you tried to push her away.
“shhh," she murmured, places soft kisses across your jaw, cooing as she saw the tears running down your face.
seeing her step daughter laying before her, clothes tussled, shaking and sobbing, and in so much vulnerability filled her with… a strange feeling. she liked it.
“it's okay, my sweet angel.”
your breath came in short, jagged bursts against her cheek, your chest rising and falling so fast it feels like your ribs might crack.
sophia didn't seem to notice, or if she does, she didnt care, her thumb continuing to massage your clit, while her other hand stayed buried inside you, every movement managing to pull something raw and desperate out of you.
“y/n, baby, have you done this before? you're soaked.” she let out a low chuckle when you shook your head tearfully.
“of course. only i can touch you this way.” you were embarrassed to find that the wetness between your legs grew at that.
the slick sound of her fingers moving, amplified in the silence of the room made something twist in your stomach, shame, or hunger, or maybe both.
you try to push her off again, but your limbs don't obey, instead opting for squeezing your eyes shut, praying that this was just an extremely vivid dream, but sophia didn't allow it.
the room filled with the damp slap of skin, your gasps and mewls, the wet squelch of fingers buried inside you. her grip tightened, her nails digging into your hip as she increased her pace.
“mo… sophia…”
you felt her smile against your cheek at the slip up, her tongue dragging across the shell of your ear as she growled, “that's it, baby, call me mommy.”
your body betrayed you, hips bucking into her touch, a guttural moan tearing from your throat. sophia hummed in satisfaction, her fingers curled deeper and deeper, thumb pressing down on your clit with a desire to see more of those innocent tears falling out of your eyes.
“say it,” she demanded, teeth sinking into your neck as she rode you closer to the edge.
your breath hitched as sophia's fingers plunged into you again, her thumb pressing just right against your clit.
the word clung to your tongue like fire, burning before they even leave your mouth, a singular tear exiting your eye before they both close in defeat.
“mommy,” you gasp, breaking on the last syllable.
the moment the title spills from your lips, your body shattered, and sophia groaned in satisfaction.
the orgasm crashed through you like a storm surge, overwhelming you instantly, and your back arched off the mattress, fingers scrabbling for purchase against sophia's back as your thighs clamped around her hand.
a scream tears from your throat, hoarse and raw, the sound swallowed by the thick air of the bedroom.
when you woke in the morning, the room was empty, the door closed. your body felt unfamiliar in a way that made bile rise in your throat.
and when sophia came down to breakfast, she looked at you with a satisfied tenderness, and a flicker of amusement in her eyes that made your blood run cold.
“good morning, sweetheart,” she said softly. “did you sleep well?” you couldn't answer.
she reached out and buried her fingers over the crown of your head, possessive.
“don’t look so frightened,” she murmured. “you’re safe with mommy. you always will be.”